Simon and Garfunkel
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And the people bowed and prayed
To the neon God they made.
And the sign flashed out its warning,
In the words that it was forming.
And the signs said, the words of the prophets
Are written on the subway walls
And tenement halls.
And whisperd in the sounds of silence.
And you read your Emily Dickinson,
And I, my Robert Frost,
And we note our place with bookmarkers
That measure what we've lost.
When I left my home and my family, I was no more than a boy
In the company of strangers
In the quiet of the railway station, runnin' scared
Laying low, seeking out the poorer quarters, where the ragged people go
Looking for the places only they would know.
And in the naked light I saw
Ten thousand people, maybe more.
People talking without speaking,
People hearing without listening.
I have squandered my resistance
For a pocketful of mumbles, such are promises
All lies and jest
Still a man hears what he wants to hear and disregards the rest.
And after it rains
There's a rainbow
And all of the colors are black
Its not that the colors aren't there
It's just imagination they lack.
Laugh about it, shout about it,
When you've got to choose,
Every way you look at it, you lose.
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